No Sleep
by Eowyn330
Summary: Nightmares are keeping Saavik awake.


"I don't want to sleep," said the little girl in flawless Vulcan.

The young man tucked the blanket around her and looked calmly at his stubborn charge.

"Saavik," he simply exhorted her; he had used all the logical explanations he knew, to no avail.

Her lips firmly pressed, fire burning in her eyes, she held his gaze. For a moment she remained silent, scowling, showing her displeasure.

The man just waited. He knew the child feared the night, he understood. She had always been difficult, but during their last days traveling in the ship she had seemed less belligerent, more at ease. Her first day on Dantria IV was not being an easy day, though. She was nervous in her new environment and stayed watchful, unsure, afraid.

"I will sleep, too," he told her, thinking that maybe the girl would follow his example.

Her response was completely different. She jumped from the bed, fear replacing challenge in her stormy eyes.

"No, Spock!" she shouted, and reached her trembling hand to him.

"No sleep! No sleep!" she cried, frantically.

Saavik's hand was now pressing Spock's arm. He took it between his. She was not shielding and her strong emotions flooded him. She was almost panicked, but he was surprised to realize that, above all else, she feared for his life, not hers. He had never realized before how much the little feral girl cared for him.

"We are safe here, Saavik," he softly reassured her, "No one will hurt us here."

The child swept her gaze over the room, still expecting to find some kind of menacing creature stalking them in the shadows. She could only see the sparse furniture. Her eyes returned to Spock's, just looking at him make her feel better. She was calmer now, but still troubled, and she had no desire to sleep.

"We are safe," Spock repeated, "you can sleep. You must sleep, Saavik, you are tired."

"No, I am not!" she quickly replied.

She folded her arms and cocked her head to look at him. She grinned mischievously.

"You are tired," she mocked him. Her expression turned serious then, "You sleep." Then, she drew herself up, trying to appear taller than she was. Her stare drilled on him, fierce determination reflected on it. "I watch," she concluded.

Spock was surprised again. He had fought the urge to rebuke her when she had mocked him, smiling as only a Romulan would, but all his thoughts vanished when the uncivilized girl offered herself to watch and protect him. She was so brave… And she really loved him. And he really loved the unfortunate child. Even if sometimes he could only see a violent little Romulan when looking at her, he still wanted to take care of her, to teach her, to show her that life didn't need to be harsh and cruel. He knew she was very bright, and curious; she was learning quickly. He wanted to teach her more.

"There is no need to watch, Saavik. Sleep."

Inwardly, he stretched his hand to caress her entangled long hair.

She frowned, "No, I watch."

He tried to convince her again, "We are safe here, Saavik, but, if you prefer, I will watch. You must rest."

She still looked unsure. "You watch?"

Spock nodded. "Yes, I watch. Now, go back to bed."

He pushed her gently and she did not resist. Saavik lay down on the bed while Spock covered her again with sheet and blanket. She smiled contently.

"Rest well," Spock told her from the door, as he switched off the dim lights.

Two hours later, Spock worked on his computer. Saavik walked silently towards him, barefoot and wearing her nightshift. She did not intent to approach Spock unnoticed, but, for her, moving stealthy was second nature.

Once she was beside him, she called, "Spock, what you doing?" Her Vulcan wasn't still as good as she wanted it to be.

Although he did not show it, Spock was startled. He tried to give her a hard look, but failed miserably.

"Saavik, you should be sleeping."

"I cannot sleep," she answered sheepishly, and then, she beamed. "What you doing?" she asked again as she leaned against the table to take a better look at the screen.

Spock swiftly pushed some buttons and changed the image of the screen.

"I was observing Vulcan. See?" He pointed at the screen. "This is Vulcan. This is where you belong, Saavik, your homeworld."

The little girl was contemplating the images on the screen with wide eyes.

"Vulcan," she whispered.

"Yes, Vulcan," Spock emphasized. "I am Vulcan. You are Vulcan, Saavik."

Saavik was motionless, staring intently at the screen.

"Do you want to see it?" Spock asked, standing up and motioning the child to sit down on his chair.

She took it eagerly, grinning, and started to play with the keyboard. Different images of Vulcan were displayed on the screen.

Satisfied, Spock told her, "I am going to take a tea, you can stay here."

"I want tea!" Saavik interjected.

Spock arched an eyebrow. The child just looked at him, her own eyebrows drawing together in both concentration and frustration. She knew he was expecting something of her.

After half a minute, she stammered, "Ple-please?"

"Yes, that is acceptable, Saavik. Remember: you must learn to be polite."

The girl nodded.

Once alone, Saavik played with the computer for a while. She contemplated the Vulcan deserts with special attention. Thieurrull had also deserts, the hated planet where she was born, the hated planet where she had lived until Spock came to save her.

"Vulcan," she muttered, "my homeworld."

She really wanted to believe in Spock's words, she really wanted to make Vulcan her home. But Thieurrull still was too vivid in her mind, and the words of the Romulans shattered her illusion before it was entirely formed. Vulcan was not her home, she was not Vulcan, she was-

She refused to acknowledge the words they have used to label her. Instead, quickly, she pressed some buttons and changed the image again. Inwardly, her smile broadened. A black background lit with white stars appeared on the screen.

"T'Pren," she said aloud, remembering respectfully the only woman who had cared for her in her previous life and whose name Spock had taught her.

"Spock", she pronounced next, softly, reverently. "My stars. My home."

After saying the words, she stared at the glittering lights with satisfaction.

Spock came in minutes later, bringing tea. Saavik was then sound asleep, leaned on the table, her head resting on her arms. He looked at the screen and a smile played in his eyes. He lay the cups on the table and took Saavik up tenderly, careful enough to not wake her up. He carried her back to her bed. For the first time since he took care of the little girl, no nightmare came to disturb Saavik's sleep.


End file.
